Bomarzo
by GusCGC
Summary: An encounter that can change History, a serial killer who seems to come from Hell and the fate of Europe at stake. Sherlock Holmes is about to face a challenge worth the Six Napoleons and the Hound of the Baskervilles. The Painting will tell, Blood shall paint the trace. Please review!


Author's note: Little to say, little to add. Move on, move on…

Sherlock and Mr. P belong to their rightful owners.

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 **1\. All in Hell as on Earth**

It was Christmas evening, the first one for Rosie Watson, a white one, with many bright lights and the warm smell of Mss. Hudson's cookies in the oven while John argued with Sherlock about the need of having guests or not, argument which was quickly settled. Lestrade self-invited himself to the party and brought Molly and Anderson with him to the celebrations in Baker Street. Twenty minutes after this, the whole gang was in the living room celebrating the resolution of an important case and Rosie's first meeting with Santa Klauss, something Sherlock had tried to sabotage for an entire week.

Mycroft had refused to do anything with the carousing. " _Goldfish 'games_ " he had said and Sherlock had not insisted. There was no point in bringing the British Government for a social call, " _Unless we want him emotionally scarred for life_ " had muttered Sherlock. John wanted no family feuds and had dropped the subject from day one, despite his friend's occasional remarks. Mary snickered now and then, but confessed that she couldn't bear seeing Mycroft acting around Rosie like a nuclear technician. Besides, the Brexit was still priority one and that kept Elder Holmes busy enough to ignore the rest of the world.

As far as Mycroft was concerned, there was nothing interesting in a petty celebration with a small human. He was busy enough receiving an ex-member of the Belgian police who had been involved in several riots against terrorists in the past years. This man had little interest in the celebrations so Mycroft was pleased to be able to talk with such distinguished character about security topics through the whole evening.

Sherlock, on the other hand, wasn't having so much fun. It was around two in the morning, John and Mary had felt asleep on the couch after a long day of work, Lestrade was arguing with Anderson about their last case, Molly was helping Mss Hudson and Sherlock had to deal with Rosie who, despite her young age, was still awake. The detective and the little girl shared a glance. Rosie giggled.

"You know? Sometimes I really envy how you are able to overcome those two, especially John, but let's keep it a secret. I don't want them knowing that we are together in this" Sherlock winked. Rosie chewed her rattled and cooed. "Yeah, we should probably let them think they have beaten us" the younger Holmes got up and walked to Lestrade. "This is going to sound a bit rude but let's hear it. Time to get out, Peeves"

"It's Greg and yes. It's getting pretty late" the inspector checked his watch. "Need a drive, Anderson?"

"Nah, I'm good. Think you can handle the troops, Sherlock?" the coroner yawned.

"With my eyes closed. Now be good and beat it. I'll see you in two days at the station or when the next Jack the Ripper has gotten over his hang-over" young Holmes opened the front door.

"As nice as ever, Sherlock. Merry Christmas!" Greg and Anderson left the flat.

"Night" the detective sighed and walked to the kitchen. "Doing fine in here?"

"Clean as a whistle" Mss Hudson smiled. "I gave Molly my cookie recipe"

"That's sweet. Just make sure that there are no crumbs in my chemistry set. You're doing ok, Molly? You seem a little tipsy"

"Am ok. I was thinking in calling a cab, but perhaps I should say goodnight to John and Mary first" the forensic surgeon smiled and walked to the living room.

"That might not be such a good idea" Sherlock pointed with his head at the sleeping couple.

"Oh, pity. Please tell them goodnight for me, Sherlock" Molly gave out a shy smile and kneeled near Rosie. "Good night, pumpkin. Merry Christmas!" the woman gave her a kiss in the cheek and walked towards the door. "Night, Sherlock"

"Night" he closed behind her and leaned tiredly against the wall. God, what a night! Sometimes he really envied Mycroft's plans, but only five seconds per day. Each time he felt like that, Sherlock had the need to spoil his brother's perfect bubble. "How about it, Rosie? Wanna join the fun and ruin Uncle Mike's Christmas?" the baby gave out a coo sound and Sherlock turned on his messenger. "Ok, Pink. What's the difference between Uncle Mycroft and John?" asked the detective. "That John's your Dadda and Myke's a Whatthaf…" Rosie started to laugh like crazy and Sherlock recorded it before sending it to his brother. "This is going to be great"

Mycroft and his guest had just finished dinner when Elder Holmes saw the message. His visitor looked at him.

"A Christmas felicitation, _mon ami_?"

"I very much doubt it. It's from my brother"

" _Pardon?_ "

"My brother and I don't tend to be so cheering, Monsieur P. We leave that to the rest of the living" Mycroft sighed. "Please tell me he hasn't finished his little Goldfish meeting in the morgue" grumbled the politician. The shrilling and high-pitched laughter of Rosie came out of the phone and Mycroft had to contain himself to not jump. He cringed and frowned, but was able to keep his face before his guest. "I can't believe it"

" _Mon Dieu_! What was that?" the Belgian man blinked.

"A baby, a child, a small female specimen"

"That much I can guess, but why send it to you?"

"My brother's associate has a little girl, a baby. My brother is her godfather and apparently, he's teaching her ways to annoy me"

" _Je comprends_ " the foreigner smiled. "Well, at least that means your brother didn't spend this night alone"

"I guess. Care for a taste of my best wine, Mr. Poirot?" Mycroft shook his head and they went near the fireplace.

" _Par tous les moyens_ "

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Meanwhile, in the Royal Gallery something dark was taking place. A tall figure stood perfectly still, watching his master piece while the water flooded through the ground carrying a dark tone along. Hanging from the wall, was the first piece of the puzzle and all that was left was to wait for the sleuths.

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Little to say, again. Connections to my other fic, After the Funeral.

Enjoy it and review!


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